


Untitled

by sandlaw



Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandlaw/pseuds/sandlaw
Summary: Love is a funny thing.
Relationships: Problem Sleuth/Spades Slick
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Untitled

It's an old hat by now, the way you and Slick go tumbling over each other in the dark, pulling and grabbing and feeling for each other instead of just stopping to let eachc other get your bearings. You're used to the rush of adrenaline when he presses cold steel to your warm flesh, making you forget that you're, in fact, not some sort of immortal, infallable creature like he is until you wake up covered in struggling little scabs.

He's been gentler recently, though. You've been waking up less sore these days, and there's a part of you that acts your age and sighs in relief when you swing your legs out of bed and don't have to deal with the consequences of moving around covered in fresh nicks and punctures. 

Usually, you'd hate to admit it, but in this case, you're surprisingly alright with the realization you're becoming soft with him. It comes up at the worst times though. Times when he notices. You remember the sleepy way he'd scrutinized you last time, after you had both finished thrashing against each other like the world fucking depended on it. After you had held him and absentmindedly traced little patterns in the creases of his joints connecting to a web of little scars. He'd said something, but it was difficult to make out with the way he had his mouth pressed to the underside of your jaw.

Tonight, you've got him wrangled under you, one arm twisted around behind him in a parody of what you used to always do when you'd first bump headfirst into him in dirty back alleys and behind darkened bars. You're glad you both opted for the relatively cleaner floor of your old apartment, these days. You press yourself down into him, feeling the wiry form of his back tensing and releasing, unsure of what you're doing. There's a pause, a lull in the action, and Slick's low voice rumbles out of his chest.

"You falling asleep on me back there? Or are you planning on fucking me _before_ the sun rises?"

Your response is almost immediate; "Gee, Slick. Have a little patience, will ya?"   
But you can't help the cheeky smile that you press into the back of his neck, nipping a bit too lovingly. And he just _laughs_ , like you've spit that giddy, floating venom straight into him, and you let his arm go. You push yourself up instead, steadying yourself over him as he awkwardly rolls over to face you.

He's giving you a smirk that pulls at the scar tissue that runs perpendicular to the sharp angles of his chin. His jacket's been chucked somewhere along the way, and his shirt is unbuttoned and strewn about in sharp folds and angles that catch the small cuts of light flickering in through your living room blinds. 

It hits you, then, again, and again and again and again, as you lean down to kiss him to smother the words at the tip of your tongue before it can run rogue on you. 

Your name is Problem Sleuth, and you love him. For a long time now, and you will for a long time after, you think.


End file.
